


You're Safe, Now.

by holmesbrcthers



Series: Prompted Ficlets [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmesbrcthers/pseuds/holmesbrcthers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name is John Watson. You’re in London. 221B Baker Street, to be precise. You live with me, and my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I promise you that you’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Safe, Now.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: Johnlock and thunder.

Rain poured down heavily on the windowsill, almost completely drowning out the sounds of London’s nightlife and traffic below them. Sherlock closed his eyes as he lay on the sofa, the sound clearing his mind as he focused in on it. 

Pitter-patter, the rain fell, and fell, and fell.

Sherlock loved the rain. The way it felt on his skin, the way it drowned out the noises outside, but most importantly, how it drowned out the noises in his head. The sound of rainfall was one of those rare things that helped Sherlock empty his mind, letting him relax, helping him fall asleep. The way it was systematic and yet chaotic at the same time. He could only find a pattern for about twenty seconds, and when he got used to it, the rain fell in a different pattern, making the man recalculate. It was an eternal game, a puzzle even he, of all people, couldn’t figure out. The pattern of rainfall. And he loved it.

The air was heavy and thick in the flat, and in hindsight, Sherlock shouldn’t have been surprised as the flat light up from the bolt of lightning. He barely counted to two seconds before he heard the crack of thunder rip through the flat, but he suddenly didn’t care that the storm was just over six-hundred meters away as he heard a familiar voice cry out in terror. 

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and he sat up rapidly as another flash of lightning illuminated the room and another crack of thunder resonated. His eyes widened in terror as he heard another scream rip through the night. He barely registered running up the stairs that led to John’s room, the calm of the rain long forgotten as he pushed open the door to the army doctor’s room and found his friend sitting up in his bed, fear and confusion obvious on his face.

"John," he whispered, extending an arm as he walked slowly towards his flatmate. “It’s alright, you’re all right, you’re safe," he coaxed. Sherlock watched as John turned to look at him, and he saw the moment of hesitation before his mind was wrenched away from the terrors of Afghanistan and brought back to the present. He saw recognition flash in his eyes, and he saw John’s body relax visibly even as he choked down a sob. John reached out for Sherlock, his eyes begging for his friend to come closer. Lightning flashed down again, and Sherlock ran over to John’s side without a second-thought, wrapping his arms around him tightly, pulling John’s head to his chest, shielding him from the lights and sounds of the storm.

"Your name is John Watson. You’re in London. 221B Baker Street, to be precise. You live with me, and my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I promise you that you’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you." The taller man pressed a kiss to the top of the blond man’s head, pulling him tighter as he felt John shaking uncontrollably in his arms. “It’s just a storm, John. It’ll pass," he promised, rubbing calming circles on his shoulder blades, careful not to let his fingers run over John’s scar.

The sound of a few deep breaths made their way to Sherlock’s ears before he felt John shifting against him, and he pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped around his friend as he looked down at John’s upturned face. “Don’t leave me,” John whispered, voice pleading.

"I won’t," Sherlock promised with a small smile, raising a hand to wipe off John’s tears delicately. He pressed a quick, comforting kiss to John’s lips before pulling the man into a tight embrace again, John’s head resting on his shoulder as Sherlock held him tight, hands calming and whispering soothing words in his ear.

Sherlock stayed with John the whole night, even as he felt the other man fall asleep in his arms, warm and safe in the detective’s arms.


End file.
